oubliette
by kathleenfergie
Summary: She found solace in the cold, damp, stone walls, the sound of dripping water and a breeze through leaves never leaving the air. Sarah had lived a life of lies and children that were never her own, and it saddened her. Jareth slowly watched his Queen slip into madness right before his eyes, and all he could do was hold her as the darkness took over her. Oneshot.


Okay kids, this is a sad one tonight. This is Sarah's life if she had become Jareth's Queen, and it isn't the greatest. Enjoy.

Jim Henson and co. own this.

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It was seldom that Sarah ever saw a runner make it to or past the oubliette. As Jareth would sit in his throne, gazing into his crystals, watching the runner's every move; Sarah would sit on a windowsill, the wished-away in her arms or on her lap, and watch the labyrinth from up high. She would bounce the babe, singing to him Celtic folk tunes from the Above and Jareth would strut about, kicking his goblins in frustration. The ticking of the thirteen hour clock could be heard throughout the whole castle, an omen of the runner's fate.

When a runner made it past the oubliette, she saw a side of her husband she never liked, the side that went from watching and waiting, to playing dirty. Not the harmless fun he had had with her all those years ago, but he'd throw the runners obstacles they would most certainly never defeat. He would stand on the sill of a window near hers and pitch his crystals towards the stone walls of the labyrinth. She hated watching him jump out the window, waiting until the last second to transform into the beautiful barn owl. She found herself looking away when he did, focusing on the child.

Only once had she heard Jareth speak the most feared words he ever could.

_'Prepare the Escher room.' _

She knew for a fact that she had been the only one to reach the room of upside down stairs and doorways before. Preparing the Escher room involved taking the child and placing him in there for the runner to find. Sarah had stood there with the four year old boy, who had refused to let go of her hand until a goblin tricked him away from her. She still remembered her quest through the room, searching for Toby as Jareth sang, taunting her. In the end, this runner did not share the same fate as Sarah.

One of her least favourite jobs was when she had to give the child to a goblin to be taken away to a fey family. She once watched a young mother on her knees, screaming for her child as the baby kicked and wailed in the arms of a beautiful fey woman. He had gone to a good home, but she would never be able to get the image of the mother crying out for the baby out of her mind.

Sarah had made it her duty to log the names of each child in a syllabus, as a way to remember that they were once human. That they had families, and despite their fate, people who loved them. It was a way to remind her that she was not completely without sin. Sarah saw herself as Jareth's accomplice in all this. In times of normality, she saw herself as his Queen and his wife, but when there was a runner, she was his accomplice in their crimes against the Aboveground.

If Jareth was ever away at the High Court, or he was entertaining guests from other kingdoms, or even just unable to do his job, he would hand his crescent moon medallion to her, signifying her as the temporary Ruler of the Labyrinth. Sarah would look down at it in disgust, its cold metal nestled between her breasts. Even as a fey now, Sarah had no natural magic, but the medallion gave her some of Jareth's powers. She would appear in the room of the wished away, wearing a black dress that flowed like fog from her body. She didn't perform Jareth's regular parlour tricks with his crystals, she wasn't one for theatrics, if you could believe it. Those childish years of poet shirts and long gypsy skirts were behind her.

The goblins never liked it when Sarah reigned in Jareth's absence. She didn't sing or kick them about, she usually just sat on the throne, the babe against her, staring into the depths of crystals. Sometimes she would summon fairies (the ones that didn't bite) to dance and sing with the child, so that she could go out into the labyrinth and royally fuck - for a lack of more dignified expressions - with the runner. She often asked Hoggle, Sir Didymus, or Ludo to distract them, to take away their noisiness and stench.

The most peculiar and saddening thing to happen to Sarah while she was Ruler, was that a seventeen year old girl was the wished away, not the wisher. The runner had been a child of eight, who had not realized the weight of her words until Sarah arrived in her bedroom. She wasn't able to run the labyrinth, thus forfeiting her sister to the Underground. As an act of mercy, Sarah had let the siblings speak before the elder was taken. She watched with sad eyes as the older girl held the younger one in her arms, soothing her, no ounce of blame and hatred in her voice. Sarah had to turn away as the tears ran down the older girl's cheeks. Her name had been Miranda, she remembered. _Miranda, 17. _She had marked in the syllabus, her tears making the ink run.

What had upset Sarah the most about that event was that Miranda had already lived and seen so much. She, like Sarah, had memories of her life in the Aboveground. At least most children who were taken away forgot their past lives and learnt to accept their new fey family. Miranda would probably never fully adapt to the life that was thrust upon her. This hit Sarah in her core and Jareth had found her collapsed against the dais steps, sobbing. She had ripped off his medallion and thrown it at him, cursing him and his hideous profession, her shouts of anger ringing through the castle. The magic had not left Sarah instantly, so she had disappeared in a wave of angry glitter, leaving Jareth alone in his throne room, the goblins to become victims of his temper and hurt ego.

There were times when Sarah would roam the castle in the darkness of the night, wearing only her white nightgown and carrying a flickering candle. She would walk and think. Sometimes she would venture out into the Goblin City, the hard ground digging into her bare feet. There was one incident where Sarah was so bold to even enter the labyrinth during her excursions. She found solace in the cold, damp, stone walls, the sound of dripping water and a breeze through leaves never leaving the air. She would look up at the sky, starless, and imagine what her brother was doing at that moment. Was it night where he was in the Above? She wondered if he looked at the stars and felt a sense of loss.

Sarah knew that Toby didn't remember her, there was no trace of Sarah anymore. The world was wiped clean of her when she had accepted Jareth's offer. Her baby brother had been returned, and Sarah had done the same as she did now, she had slipped from her room into the darkness. She had climbed up to a turret and stood, looking out at the land she now called home, and let the wind gather her hair, black as the night, tears rolling down her porcelain cheeks. She could hear the sound of her mother's deep voice, singing her the songs of her family's homelands, deep Celtic tunes floating through the night.

She missed her loyal dog, Merlin, and she missed her father, and how he always smelled of cigars and coffee. She missed all of her girly trinkets from her teenage years. Most of all, she missed seeing Toby grow up. Those thirteen hours, and the hundreds of years she had lived in the Underground, she matured. Not immediately, but in time she came to miss her brother, his blond head and blue eyes not unlike Jareth's features. Sarah had conceived few children with Jareth, and they had all ended in miscarriages. She blamed it on her mortal genes that had been transformed into fey ones.

There had been one special wished away, though. She had been reigning, and a newborn boy came in her possession. The sibling kept true to his wish and did not run. A baby with dark hair and mismatched eyes, he was perfect. Sarah decided to adopt the baby. Jareth had been away at war for almost a year, and when he came back to his Queen, she sat on their shared throne, the babe in her arms. '_Your son, Jareth, your heir.' _She had said to him. He did not know the true history of the child, and she would never tell him.

Sarah had lived a life of lies and children that were never her own, and it saddened her.

Jareth made her happy, she conceded, but some days it was never enough. She would watch her young son sing and dance with the goblins, and she would feel the need to weep. Jareth would make love to her and she would turn away, closing herself off from him, becoming an empty shell as he whispered words of endearment. Sarah knew that it would be a constant in her life, the sadness. It would always be lurking in the shadows, ready to attack her. Sarah was succumbing to the oubliette of her mind.

Jareth slowly watched his Queen slip into madness right before his eyes, and all he could do was hold her as the darkness took over her.


End file.
